The Guardian's Companion
by SunshineOwl
Summary: A set of LingFan drabbles. Not in any specific order, nor are they specifically interconnected. Will update when convenient. Rated T to be safe.
1. Wardrobe

"Okay, okay, how about _this_ one?"

"Very funny, Young Lord."

"You're right, it's not extravagant enough." He ducked back into the wardrobe and returned with a flourish. "How about this?"

The young girl blinked stonily.

"Aw, you're taking all the fun out of this!" He knocked the hat off his head and flopped onto the bed dramatically. "Don't tell me I bought all these crazy hats for nothing."

"Young Lord, surely it's not proper to be-"

"-trying on hats in my quarters with the door closed. Yes, you said that earlier."

Lan Fan sighed from her post by the door.

"Well, you're my private guard, aren't you? You're going to have to get used to being with me in private if you're my private guard. Besides, you've even got that stuffy grandpa of yours outside."

"My family has served the Yaos for generations. I'm only doing my duty."

Ling sighed. "Fine, I guess. If I'm going to be emperor one day, though, we're going to have to get used to each other."

"Yes, Young Lord."

Ling cracked a grin and sat up. "C'mon, don't you ever smile?"


	2. Citizens

It was supposed to be a trip to the market. They were supposed to be at the market, not here, alone, on this dusty road.

His pace was all too familiar to her. His footsteps touched down with precision, kicking up next to no dirt even on this unstable path. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his jacket, a sword slung across his back. She did not even have to glance at him to know this. Despite this familiar boy beside her, her nerves were not calmed. They were walking in the open, like a battlefield, anything could happen. She had to protect the Young Lord, but the sun was in her eyes and things were far too quiet, and why were they even out here?

"Young Lord-"

"Do you ever think about it? This?"

"Young Lord?"

"Do you ever think about the sun, the sky, the sand under our careful feet? How simple it all is? And we, just people. Just citizens. Our country is not well, but still the soil and sky carries on. It is not affected."

"I..."

"One day, I'm going to own Xing. I will, I'll be sure of it. But just me – just a person, just a citizen. Just me. And just you, too."

"I think it's time we returned, Young Lord."

He turned around without missing a beat. His voice, though, sounded slightly off when he said, "You know, if it's just you and me, it's okay to call me Ling."


	3. Exposre

It was petty and foolish. She knew. She was full of self loathing. But she thought, just this once, she could allow it.

The air was warm and unforgiving. The wind was tiny thorns. Her face was a canvas, unpainted, as her ceramic mask sat beside her. Her feet dangled over the cliff and her hood was pulled back and hung loosely around her neck. To put it simply, she was, for the first time, exposed.

Under normal circumstances, she would have noticed. She could have been on her feet, ready to defend. Though, here, exposed, she was caught of guard.

"Lan Fan?"

"Young Lord!" She flew to stand, fumbling to put her hood up and reach for her mask.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I was ... I ... I'm sorry, Young Lord. Please forgive my inattentiveness. Grandfather released me from my post early and I ... I..."

Ling squinted and leaned forward. "Why's your face wet?"

She spun around to quickly put her back to his while wiping her cheeks frantically with the backs of her hands. "Forgive me, I ..."

Ling stepped forward and grabbed her arm gently, pulling it from her face. "Were you crying?"

She turned to him, eyes lined with pale anguish. "How pitiful! Tears! How foolish to be discovered by you, in this state, in tears! I have no reason or time for such a thing. Forgive me, forgive me, it won't happen again."

But he didn't seem to be listening. He slowly dropped his hand and stood facing her, lips parted. "What were you crying for?"

"Nothing that is of concern. Forgive me, I don't know what -"

"I've never seen you cry before," he said lamely.

"No, I suppose you haven't." Though she supposed nothing; the Young Lord had never seen her shed a single tear and she knew it. "My apologies."

"You don't have apologize or anything. I just ... well, are you okay now?"

"Yes, Young Lord."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

"Okay ... well, do you want to get something to eat?"

Her hands found her mask and she tied the tassels around the back of her head. "I will accompany you wherever you please."

"Are you sure?" he smirked. "What if I please to go to the men's public dressing room? Would you accompany me there as well?" He laughed at his own joke, hoping to make her squirm.

Her lips remained even, but he knew that tiny flicker of amusement in her eyes as she said, "If you so desire, Young Lord."


	4. Drenched

"Just come under," he whined, wiggling the umbrella in her direction.

"No thank you, Young Lord. It is my duty to protect you, and I can't do that under that tacky thing of yours." He was sure there was a slight smile in her voice.

"Tacky?" he feigned hurt. "This was custom made by the finest umbrella fashioners in the east! Hand crafted handle, embroidered design and all!"

"Is that so? As I recall, I escorted you to a shop just last week to purchase an umbrella matching that exact description."

"A knock-off, of course."

"Of course." She glanced over and caught him grinning. Her eyes flickered back as they kept moving.

"Really, though, come on under. You're getting all wet."

"Not necessary, Young Lord. I'm perfectly fine out here."

As if on cue, a clap of thunder sounded behind them, followed promptly by an utter down pour of harsh rain.

"All, right, now you're being plain ridiculous! You're soaked! Just get under the umbrella!"

Despite the severe rainfall, Lan Fan kept her posture steady and maintained even paces. "No need, I'm completely-"

But while she was swallowed in duty and pride, Ling expertly planned his attack and dashed to his subordinate, sheltering them both with the umbrella. However, Lan Fan, sensing an unidentified attack to her right, sent out her arm in a sort of bunt motion, which resulted in the Xingese prince's gut running straight into her forearm. Realization hit her as she realized she'd just punched the Young Lord into the mud.

"Young Lord!" Forgive me!" she cried, tripping over herself to help him. She grabbed his hands and heaved him out of the slushy dirt.

"Geez," he said, rubbing his tail bone. "If you didn't want to share, you could've said so." He chuckled easily and his guard emitted a breathy laugh.

"You're sure you're alright? No fractures?"

"Fine, fine," he sighed, eyes to the leaky sky. "But, thanks to you, looks like we're both walking home in the rain." His thumb gestured to the umbrella, which was presently half-buried in the mud and completely useless.

"No matter, we can just-"

Lightning electrified the sky and thunder sent the hills rolling and as though they were a single, well-oiled machine, the two broke off into a frantic, simultaneous sprint, making a bee-line for the palace. As their careful feet kicked up the uneven ground, pockmarked with footprints and rain-laden scars, more veins of electricity snaked through the dangerous blanket above. Ling sent his hand into the rainy battlefield. It found Lan fan's wrist and held to it tightly while they pursued the mad dash to refuge.


	5. Companionship

In his defense, he'd planned everything expertly.

They were in the Throne Room (they only place they could be alone these days, it seemed) on a leisurely afternoon. She was at his side, as always, with her mask shielding her beautiful face (he'd told her on several occasions it was okay to remove it, and at each request she'd denied). He knew she wouldn't appreciate a big commotion, so he knew now was an acceptable moment. She also wasn't one to favor jewelry, and as the result, a small gold band rested in his palm, fingers closed tightly around it. She, of course, was not a woman to beat around the bush, so he straightened in his throne, turned to her, and said, almost casually, "Lan Fan? Will you marry me?"

He grinned a grin only Ling was capable of and showed her the ring in his hand. It was going wonderfully, just as planned, and, so, came her steady reply-

"No."

He blinked, clearly (and understandably) taken aback. Withdrawing his hand, he looked down at the tiny band, a band that could fit only her finger.

"What do you mean, 'no?'"

Through the slits in her mask, her eyes glinted. "Usually, when someone says no, they mean it as a form of refusal."

"So ... you're refusing my proposal?" he asked dumbly.

"Yes," was her even reply. She half expected him to say _"What do you mean, 'yes?'"_ But for a moment he was silent.

"Okay," he said in a small voice. She glanced over, their air thick as he played the band between his finger tips, back slouched into his throne.

The Emperor of Xing let the matter go for a while. They carried on as usual, as always, because what else was there to do? But he soon became restless, and the ring that was ever in the pocket of his robes made a few more appearances.

In the garden.

At dinner.

Outside her room.

Even in the hallway, if they had a free moment. Always the same question, always the same answer.

"No."

Finally, Ling had had enough.

"Why?" he cried, rather loudly, into the corridor.

"Because I decline, Your Highness."

"I'll have you or I'll have no one." Lan Fan was shocked to see he was close to tears.

"Then have no one, Emperor."

"Would you stop calling me that? I'm asking for you to marry me, I think for a moment you can drop the formalities."

"I'm afraid not, Your Excellency." Her eyes flickered.

"Lan Fan, just be honest with me. Why won't you marry me?"

They were now standing in the doorway of Ling's bedroom past nightfall, hardly the time or place for the Emperor of Xing to be throwing a fit.

She would not remove her mask, but she smiled slightly through the mouth's opening.

"My duty is to protect you. Being your wife, swathed in silks and careful hair arrangements and only seeing you at nights while you spend your days with another subordinate is not a lifestyle that suits me."

"I can change the rules. I'm the Emperor, I can do that," he said quickly, as if she didn't already know.

"I cannot allow anyone to do my job while I am so willingly in this position. I have no intention of modifying my way of life. The delicate lifestyle of an empress is not something I seek. I don't want a ring, I don't need a title. And now that you're secured in your quarters for the night, I'm going to retire to mine. Good night, My Lord."

As Ling lay in his lonely bed that night, he thought how impossible the entire situation was. Surely she knew he could bend as many rules as needed to give her any lifestyle she dreamed. Of course she knew that, so why was he rejecting him?

She said she didn't need a title. Maybe, after all, being the faceless guardian of the emperor _was_ what suited her. Maybe she was right. Maybe, he thought, in the midst of his heartbreak and confusion, she was promising him a bond stronger than could be bound by the little golden band.


End file.
